


Can't Spell "Christmas" without "Crowley"

by cunzy4



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Az & Crow do Christmas, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is a grumpy elf, Gen, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunzy4/pseuds/cunzy4
Summary: Crowley loves Christmas but he will never admit it. Aziraphale makes the best Santa.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: The Repossessed December 2020 Holiday Event





	Can't Spell "Christmas" without "Crowley"

“Why do I always have to be the elf?” Crowley grumped. “It’s bloody demeaning, is what it is.”

Aziraphale looked up from where he was re-fluffing his already fluffy Santa hat and beamed at him. “You don’t  _ have  _ to be the elf, you  _ get  _ to be the elf,” he corrected cheerfully. “Santa’s helpers are invaluable in spreading Christmas cheer!”

“Then how about  _ you  _ be the elf and I can be Santa for once?” Crowley griped, holding one pointy shoe at arm’s length with disgust. “If spreading Christmas cheer is so important and all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said dismissively. “There are  _ expectations  _ for this sort of thing. Jolly old Saint Nick and all that. Be honest, can you really picture yourself saying “ho ho ho?”

“Ho ho ho,” Crowley said, completely deadpan. 

“Very well, you can be Santa,” Aziraphale conceded graciously. “The children might be disappointed, though.”

Crowley glared him down for a long moment. Aziraphale responded with his most innocent expression.

“Fine,” Crowley grumbled. “But I’m not wearing anything with bells on it.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. He knew Crowley was only complaining to disguise the fact that he was looking forward to the event. His pride would never allow him to admit that deep down, he was a soft little softie who loved the laughter and excitement of children.

Aziraphale would never say that out loud, though. He was willing to allow Crowley to maintain his deniability.

After all, it was Christmas.

* * *

“And what would you like for Christmas, little boy?” Aziraphale said to the squirming child who currently rested on his knees.

“A Switch!” the kid lisped, his front teeth missing.

“Oh? And have you been a nice child? Are you behaving at home?”

“Yes!” the kid insisted.

Aziraphale leaned his head in conspiratorially. “And what would your sister say about that? Would she agree that you’ve been nice, after you broke her dollhouse?”

The kid went pale. “Am I on the naughty list?” he squeaked. “Am I going to jail?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Let’s make a deal,” he said. “If you apologize to your sister, I’ll give her a new dollhouse. And if you promise not to break her things, we’ll see about getting you that Switch.”

The child looked more relieved than excited. Aziraphale patted his head, posed for a photo, then the kid ran off to rejoin his parents and Aziraphale helped the next child climb into his lap.

Crowley hovered behind his chair, reluctantly wearing what he referred to as a “clown costume,” complete with tights and a ridiculous hat over his flaming hair. He was acting more like a bodyguard than an assistant, making sure no one tried to cut in line and silencing any tantrums. From the parents, that is. Nothing brought out the best in children and the worst in adults like a visit to Santa.

He had a bright grin plastered across his face to disguise the scowl underneath. The scowl itself was also a disguise for a much more sincere smile that Crowley would never allow to show on his face. He could never admit, not even to himself, that he was actually happy right then. Happiness, if nothing else, clashed with his aesthetic. He had an image to maintain, after all.

* * *

“Well, that was a tremendous waste of time,” Crowley grumbled after the last stragglers had filed out of the mall. “Can’t wait to get home and drink until I forget this whole thing ever happened.”

He was sprawled across the Santa chair that Aziraphale had recently vacated, tapping a pen against his teeth as he scrutinized a clipboard. 

“You know, you’re allowed to admit you had fun,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“I will not listen to such slander,” Crowley hissed. 

“Of course, I’m terribly sorry,” Aziraphale said patronizingly. “Do you have the list?”

“Yup.” Crowley pulled the top page off the clipboard, holding it above his head for Aziraphale to grab as he walked past the chair. “Checked it twice and everything.”

Aziraphale’s list was full of names of children and the presents they’d asked for. Most of them were small consumer electronics, which Aziraphale knew nothing about, but he would ensure the kids received them anyway. Only children who had wished for younger siblings would find their parents suddenly expecting, if the family environment allowed for it. Lonely children who wished for friends would find new families moving into the neighborhood. Sick family members would be healed, missing pets would return, fathers would return from deployment. Aziraphale took it upon himself to make a Christmas miracle for every single child on his list.

Crowley, on the other hand, had a much shorter list. The kids who had looked around nervously before whispering their wishes to Santa. The ones who asked for their fathers to stop hurting their mothers, who wanted nothing more than a decent meal or a safe place to sleep, who tearfully asked for Santa to make their parents stop wishing they would disappear. Crowley would bring his own special variety of Christmas miracle to these kids.

Tomorrow, Crowley would begin sneaking into houses and spreading Christmas cheer. For now, though, there was a glass of wine and a warm fire waiting for him, a warm blanket and a smiling angel and a heart full of contentment.

And, perhaps, a true and genuine smile.


End file.
